


SIXTEEN DEVILS

by drasangel



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, NSFW, THE COUNT - Freeform, vampire!michael
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26277166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drasangel/pseuds/drasangel
Summary: In a world where dancing with death becomes a winning game, Michael Langdon crosses paths with their match; it was a passionate tragedy disguised as a piece of heaven.The poet once said for a prey to become the predator, you must be equal.In every way.
Relationships: Michael Langdon & You, Michael Langdon/Reader, Michael Langdon/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Nightcall

_**Sixteen ladies dancing on my bed,** _

> _**sixteen murders I don’t want to commit.** _
> 
> ❞
> 
> * * *
> 
> **PROLOGUE**

_ There were tragedies disguised as dreams, and dreams that tasted of heaven in the form of tragedies. An oasis for the starving soul, that one man who dared to look for the forbidden fruit, greedy enough to keep it for himself. Doomed by, it was told that he was the walking  _ **_sun_ ** _. Rumors referred to the golden long curls which, remarkably, complimented his pale features. Others dared to be blind to such expectations of a striking beauty and swore it had nothing to do with it, but his corrupt soul. Someone who burnt their surroundings without a second blink.  _ **_An intelligent and vital serpent,_ ** _ one of them exclaimed with wide eyes and one hand clung to his heavy chest, after leaving the mansion Langdon. Claiming he’d prefer to meet death than dealing with such a man again. The guests laughed it off, thinking his thoughts were clouded by jealousy or a possible rejection coming from the man himself, it wasn’t a secret that Michael took a certain liking for men as much as they did for ladies. After all, it was Langdon's name that was spoken with respect and admiration, not theirs.  _

_ Three days later, he was found dead by the lake, blood drained.  _

_ No one else kept laughing.  _

_ Death respected no youth or innocence, but it had a certain liking for its son. Michael Langdon was not only favored by occultism, but people that followed him, looking forward to their approval by the smallest of things. It was the attention he bathed in, superficially. In the presence of ladies or gentlemen, he wore a bright smile as if painted by the sun itself. A glint within eyes and the eye contact which he, desperately, held to others. Often coming as intimidating. His manners were often shown, having a particular liking for the guest’s pleasure. If they were pleased, so was he. In every sense.  _

_ And how much he relished in the feeling.  _

_ “Mr. Langdon. Pardon my boldness, but this is the first time I have seen someone —“ The young lady, dressed in a silk white dress, held the wine bottle closer to the bathtub. Until emptied inside. It was the last one after awhile, and now a reddish liquid filled it. “Someone taking a bath… with no water, but wine.”  _

_ As if a joke itself, her response was a gentle yet deep in tone chuckle from the standing male, in front of the mirror. Amused blues didn’t bother to look at her, but her gaze didn’t bother to look away from him either.  _

_ There was something about him that made such a common thing as unbuttoning the ends of sleeves, interesting. Perhaps alluring to keep looking — for sight of skin. For sight of all of him.  _

_ Almost as if thoughts were read, Langdon’s gaze lifted from his hands, gazing at her through the crystal.  _

_ The ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips.  _

_ “I do it because no one else does.”  _ _ He answered, with a lighter tone. Obvious from its own perspective. As soon as his white shirt was discarded, he turned to face her. A not-so-true answer, with hints of a lie. “But you’re not here to see me bathing, are you? Your gaze speaks of curiosity.”  _

_ She shook her head, rising to her feet. Once again he had found a way to get in her thoughts.  _

_ “I’ve heard things.” Added shortly after. “About you, Mr. Langdon.”  _

_ “Where would be the fun if people didn’t speak my name? That’s what they were made for, after all. To be spoken about.” _

_ He knew where this conversation would lead, neither did he have the mood or time to unleash all the questions that came with it. In other circumstances, Michael would’ve found himself bothering to go with this process alone, but this wasn’t it. With the uncertainty of what would happen after he attempted to do a reserved spell, the odds of being lost in time or inside his mind crossed his thoughts. The spell was destined to only see and live the past— not the future. The past was no use to be unburied, but the future was promising. And he hasn’t slept well, for days, stuck with the uncertain chilly feeling that ran up his spine. It began as a feeling, until it became a heavy weight in his chest. Clinging. Clutching. Digging inside in pain. It felt as if mourning, but there was no face or name he could make sense of.  _

_ However, the feeling was heavily known. It was a loss. Langdon’s heart was mourning, and he didn’t know why.  _

_ “And you haven’t denied them either.”  _

_ Her voice brought him back to reality, blinking from himself ( how did he get inside the tub without noticing, lost in thought? ) upon the female, now sitting in the nearest chair. One long deserved minute was taken to stare, tracing the curve of her body, complemented by silk. He noticed it was shorter — and in fact, she has rolled up the ends of it, folding it into her lap. Allowing him the sight of inner thighs. “Is it true about the things you make  _ **_us_ ** _ do?”  _

_ He shouldn’t have allowed himself this distraction and yet, there he was, with a tilt of head — long blond curls falling over one shoulder — daring her to continue. “Why don’t you find out by yourself, if you’re so interested?”  _

_“Even_ ** _those_** **_rumors_** _. That you encourage them to do questioning ways to please you?”_

_ The glint shown without oceans of blue, clouded by either lust or warning made her swallow. One hand had already reached out for her top buttons, unbuttoning one by one. There was no shame in revealing herself to him, for she already felt bare before him long ago.  _ **_He undressed her in his mind, or so that’s what he wanted her to believe._ **

_ “I never make them do anything they don’t want to.” An inner mocking gesture. The young male took another minute to admire her figure. “Close your eyes for me, will you?” Upon noticing the confusion on her face, he added. “I will not touch you until you do it yourself. You want me to crave you, but nothing will make me crave it more than a woman who knows how to please herself. Show me that you don’t actually need me to do such a thing for you, that you just  _ **_want_ ** _ me to.”  _

_ Anything else would’ve her believe that he was playing around, wasn’t everyone?  _

_ A gentle squeeze was given to her left breast by herself, it was small enough to fit perfectly into the palm of her hand as the tracing of her free hand lowered to her bare womanhood. Was it a show he desired? The thought made her release a low breath, legs spreading for him. Intimate and bare before him, like a delicate petal, yearning to be touched and admired. Fluttered closed eyes allowed to picture herself laying on the silk white blankets, with dim light shadows above her. _

_ Captures in the dark when she’d take the time to spoil, love and touch herself like no other man did. There was no shame in it, why would she feel sorry for the lack of others? Fingertips, slowly, circled around her folds. Allowing herself to find that pleasure spot. It was the deep gaze that Mr. Langdon often had on her that encouraged that tingling feeling inside, hips raising to chase and seek her own bliss. By then, lips had parted, soft whimpers followed.  _

_ How sensible they felt.  _

_ “Use your fingers.” His huskier voice didn’t make it less pleasant. It felt close enough to her ear, breathing in her neck— but she knew that was not the case. He remained inside, leaning back against the material of the cold marble. Two fingers were introduced, pleasing his sight. “Come on, love. How do my fingers feel inside you?”  _

_ Her teeth caught her bottom lip, preventing any further noise. The female’s body kept on seeking her reach, clouded by arousal. “It feels —“ It gave her chills. The form of his name came out in the sweetest of low moans, mind attempting to settle as a wave of satisfaction greeted her. There was no time to recover by someone else’s steps walking in the bathroom, startling her. As soon as eyes opened, she met Langdon's gaze and such knowing smile. As satisfied as she felt.  _

_ “Well?” He inquired.  _

_ “Satisfying.” Only then, his attention turned to the brown-haired male, around his thirties, who didn’t seem phased by such an event before his eyes. His strong accent arose with short words. “It’s time.”  _

_ And it was indeed time to know the truth.  _

_ Part of him wanted to,  _

_ The other part just wanted to ignore it all and move on.  _

_ “Very well. You have been entertained enough. Why don’t you lead the way towards the lady’s room?”  _

_ It was spoken towards the male with stubble, who was interrupted by the female as soon as she arose, already dressed. “I know my way, as every night. Thank you,  _ **_Michael._ ** _ ” These little games they often played between them ( often initiated by her ) whenever she’d feel herself unsatisfied by others. Michael never touched her himself, but he made it  _ **_easier_ ** _ for her to feel as if he had. Neither side complained.  _

_ When the room was left alone, except for his presence, he took a deep breath. Focusing on himself. The little games between them would perk his interest, but not tonight. He couldn’t stop thinking. Assuming. Overthinking. Both hands gripping both sides. The moonlight through curtains bathed most of the room, making the reddish liquid seem darker— matched dilated pupils. Once someone asked “Is it blood or wine?”  _

_ He never answered it.  _

_ “Father. May I arise with your guidance, your wisdom. Open my eyes to the unknown, let me see what has been hidden from me.”  _

_ The self made cut along the palm of his hand through praying made him exhale the held breath, his own blood dripping into the darker water.  _

_ He sank.  _

_ It felt like a blurry dream, only that he was allowed to take his own path. Surrounded by nothing, but blackness, Michael found himself stepping forward, aimlessly. It wasn’t the sight that would lead him, but the feeling inside his chest. One hand held up, slightly, as if attempting to prevent himself from bumping into something — nothing. It was the brief, yet remarkable sound of a whimper that caught his attention. From behind. Turning on his heels, he was caught off guard by the sight of himself on his knees, holding a smaller body on his lap. The other boy, in agony, choked on his own blood.  _

_ Walking around the scene, he caught the glimpse of the boy’s face. A younger-looking Michael Langdon laid out, being chased by death. The current Langdon, watching both versions of himself, found himself confused. Eyebrows furrowed, as if expecting for the other one (himself, too) holding him to do something.  _

_ “Take me.” A lighter tone, drowning in pain. Blues widened, almost innocent-alike. It wasn’t innocence, but fear. It was his voice. “— to the house. With you. Forever.”  _

_ The view changed within the blink of an eye,  _

_ And he was struck by the same pain he assumed the other felt. Worse than the pain which didn’t let him sleep at nights or had his paranoia carrying along. It was surrow, in its truest nature, blooming with loss. Taken caught off guard, the older Langdon fell to his knees, mimicking the sight before him.  _

_ This time, it was the fake Michael who found himself crying. Holding another body in his arms, it was no longer another young verse of himself, but a stranger. Something blocked out the sight of their face, no matter how hard he attempted to focus, he was only allowed to see silver hair. The person gripped the other Michael’s clothes, a small gesture. They were bleeding out, also chased by death itself.  _

_ He rolled fingers into a fist against his chest, as if it would erase the pain he felt and yet didn’t understand. It didn’t. That other Michael loved whoever they were and they mourned, cried in surrow.  _

_ A softer tone reached his ears, it came from the stranger. Barely a whisper. Feminine, young, lovingly. Another blink made him notice the vision of him was bleeding as well — and that they weren’t clinging to his clothes…  _

_ Everything else faded.  _

_ “Michael.”  _

_ An known voice echoed in the room, but the young male found himself too occupied catching his breath to acknowledge it, leaning against the side of the bathtub. That same brown-haired male had hunched down, worry in his tone, as he helped him out. “What did you see?”  _

_ He wasn’t certain about it.  _

_ “Someone’s death.” Langdon spoke between breaths, the effect of the spell had forced his true nature out, dilated eyes cast by darkness, highlighted veins beneath, scars that erased the sight of a youthful beauty. “And mine.”  _


	2. Bloody skies.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Until autumn turns gray,   
> and there's no breath in the skies, on ground, nor world.   
> Until I look into my reflection and see you no more,   
> I shall find you, my dearest.   
> And seek your love.

**_CHAPTER 1. Bloody skies._ **

  
  


_ He dreamt that morning for the first time in a long time. And he dreamt the next morning, and the following after, clocked by the long hours under the sunlight, until he didn’t anymore. The dreams didn’t stop— it was him who did it first. Insomnia came as a cold, clouded veil upon him. Langdon wasn’t certain about his feelings towards all of this, but if there was something to be certain about, was that no matter if it was daylight or night, dreams that tasted like heaven and yet felt like a dagger into his heart chased him.  _

_ He was being chased down by a passionate, unknown lover.  _

_ Recalling the hours he’d spend at his studio, with a book in hands which promised to grant him knowledge ( wasn’t that why, everyone read after all? ) his mind kept running somewhere else. It all always came down to the night he was turned, somewhere adopted and yet molded into a personification of himself by that same woman who walked around the mansion, always with a smile at plump rose lips. A smile that whispered she  _ **_knew_ ** _ everything, yet lacked the authority he had learned to tame. The night he became  _ **_someone else_ ** _ , it was also the day he stopped having  _ **_dreams_ ** _ and instead, their mind was captured by nothing but a black deep abyss.  _

  
  


**_“We don’t dream.”_ **

**_Had she responded to his question, having a younger Michael in her arms. Her index finger traced along the shape of his jawline. It was a gentle gesture. The respect that held those pairs of blues for her back then. “People like us die in the daylight, and are reborn in the shadows. Children of the night don’t age as well, you might have to get used to yourself right now.”_ **

  
  


_ Oh, but he did age.  _

_ And now, he was dreaming again.  _

  
  


_ A couple of hours later, the skies cried a darker reddish-water color, with light orange. Bloomed by the upcoming shadows of clouds. However, there were still a couple of hours left for the night to arrive. It was the most colorful and yet terrifyingly beautiful sight any eye saw in ages. It bled, and birds upon the skies cried — and danced with it.  _

_ It was sad.  _

_ Beautiful.  _

_ Cold.  _

_ Michael found it fascinating in its own way.  _

  
  


_ “Three days.” A male murmured to someone else on the opposite side of the old bridge. His voice shook unstable, almost fearful. “Do you understand how long it will take them to find out? Three, or four. Five if we’re lucky!”  _

_ The young-looking, with long blond silky curls didn’t turn around. However it was the words drowning in fear he could recognize, anywhere,  _ **_almost smell it_ ** _ that had him remaining still. Gaze dropped to the deep waters beneath them, awaiting for an answer from whoever they were with.  _

_ There was no answer.  _

_ And in return, the stranger raised his voice, exclaiming.  _

_ “Where’s the  _ **_bloody_ ** _ scarf? Don’t look at me like that right now, you do not have the right to. I asked you a question.” Silence from the other side. “God. God.  _ **_God, no._ ** _ You put it on them, didn’t you? Don’t tell me you forgot it. I swear if you did—“  _

_ Langdon turned on his heels, allured by curiosity. The bridge was empty, except for three of them. Counting him along. He didn’t realize the distance between them was decent, for those previous words echoed in his ears as if they stood just right behind them. One of them, the taller male with fire kissed hair’s voice was heard again. He assumed it was him all this time along. Only— a blink of eyes, Langdon noticed they weren’t speaking. The angle such a tall male stood by allowed him a considerable glimpse of his face. Sharp and thin features. Pale. They lacked stubble as much as he did, but that wasn’t his main focus.  _ **_Words_ ** _ were heard, but his lips didn’t move.  _

**_Magic?_ **

_ It shouldn’t be a surprise nor impossible, yet the  _ **_inner pleasant surprise_ ** _ running through his figure couldn’t be helped.  _

_ He was a man of natural interest after all.  _

_ They were speaking telepathically between each other, which meant  _ **_witchcraft_ ** _ was involved. And forbidden, for decades.  _

_ The  _ **_war of dreamers_ ** _ defeated every soul that was born with or practiced magic, witchcraft, soul keepers, spiritually. It was murmured that their leader began with false promises of a  _ **_new_ ** _ and  _ **_bright_ ** _ beginning for every one who dared to follow him. Half of his followers laid out their souls for him as an act of loyalty. The other half was infatuated with the man he was, they said and blindly trusted in his word. Magic wasn’t hidden anymore for a couple of years, and those who were  _ **_cursed_ ** _ were seen as  _ **_gifted_ ** _. A palace named THE SANCTUARY. Until it wasn’t anymore. Betrayed by the person they trusted the most, their home became their own graves.  _

_ It earned him the name of false prophet. A man, cunning and intelligent enough to fool a world. He was the king. The only one allowed to wear abilities out of human possibilities— reasons?  _

_ When Langdon thought of it, it was easy to see it as a strategy. To keep a leash on the weaker. Even if what came after for him, was the bitter taste of vengeance by the ones he loved.  _

_ And that’s how his own lineage began.  _

_ Marcus teased Michael about the way he acted sometimes, calling him false prophet. He didn’t see how he could be similar to someone they never saw or met. And, he wasn’t interested in anyone else, but being  _ **_himself_ ** _. Leaving his own mark.  _

_ That pair at the bridge must have assumed no one would notice.  _

_ A step closer to them, what would he do? Nothing. There was no way to make it be known the fact he knew without revealing himself all along.  _

_ “I told you not to LOOK AT ME THAT WAY!”  _

_ This time his voice was heard aloud. Raspy. The stranger’s hand reached out for the other’s, by his side, yanking. The brusque move caused for the black hood to fall off, revealing gold—  _ **_no._ ** _ Long silver curls by the wind. It was a lady dressed in a formal, black suit. She hissed something under her breath, snapping out of his grasp.  _

_ He was behind them within seconds.  _

_ “That’s such a disrespectful way to treat someone. Who taught you manners? The street guards?”  _

_ His presence caught them off guard. The female turned around on her heels with wide eyes, her back facing the rude male, whose glare was already upon Michael. There was an underlying satisfaction that his anger was on him now.  _ **_Good._ **

**_“_ ** _ Ha. Who taught you to interrupt private encounters? Oh, wait. It seems like it’s  _ **_your_ ** _ thing.”  _

_ Oh. He recognized him.  _

_ “I don’t see anyone complaining. Do you have an issue with my presence, lady?” Michael’s attention turned to her. Mocking tone. She wore an unwritten expression over her features, and glint within darker honey alike eyes. She didn’t answer right away, but something told him that she didn’t have to. “Are you okay? I saw his behavior.”  _

_ “She is  _ **_fine._ ** _ And if she wasn’t, it would be none of your business.”  _

_ “Enough.” A gentle tilt of head allowed her to cast him a glance. Subtle glare. Michael found himself surprised at the heavily firmness of her voice. As if commanding him to. The other’s face went red. “I decide whose business it is.”  _

_ “Well.” Langdon granted a bright grin. Satisfied. “You heard her.”  _

_ “That’s ridiculous, keriah!” He exclaimed, hands rising out of frustration. “Will you listen to this man and trust him? We don’t have time for him nor your desires to hook up with another stranger. Let’s go. Now.”  _

_ He attempted to reach out for her wrist one more time. She was quick enough to pull it away and step backwards, hands shoving into the pockets of her coat. Out of anyone’s reach.  _

_ “I do not trust him.” As she spoke, Michael felt her gaze on him. “But that doesn’t mean I trust you either. You wish to go? Then, do it. I’ll find my way back by myself.”  _

_ It took the one who was addressed to a couple of minutes. Part of him wanted them to defy her words. Staring between the blond male and her. His own inner anger would’ve moved oceans if it were possible yet he turned halfway, referring to her for the last time. “Three days.” And left.  _

_ The tense weight in the air left with him as well.  _

_ “I am afraid by the end, the unexpected happened. You seem to be stuck with me now. What are the odds with a stranger like me, again?”  _

_ She gifted him a grin. It reached her eyes.  _

_ “Oh, you’re mistaken, sir. What part of I do not trust you, you didn’t seem to understand?”  _

**_So it wasn’t a little game._ **

_ She was firm on the ground.  _

_ It wasn’t often someone, so confident in themselves, was as cunning as himself and they were there to witness.  _

_ “I understood every part of it. However, see the skies? Mm.” His gaze followed upon the sky to accent his words. “The daylight is about to leave us. You can’t see the sun, but the night will be here within less than an hour. It’d be a shame to leave you here, alone without a ride, all on your own.”  _

_ Her smile faded in the slightest,  _

_ and he found himself finding the right button. He couldn’t stop finding himself glancing at her curls.  _

_ Long, platinum hair. Part of him wanted to run fingers through it, just the same way ladies asked the same thing of him. To attempt to explain feelings meant to try to understand them. Langdon didn’t want to understand, he just wanted to  _ **_forget and feel._ **

_ Until it sank in. The realization of his attraction to her traits, her hair. It wasn’t the first time he had seen it, was it? Not her, but it. The familiar traits. It dug into his mind for weeks now. As unexplainable as his previous interest, he bowed in the slightest. A sign of him leaving, before turning to proceed to head towards the opposite way he came from. The change of his behavior must have come abruptly; surprising her.  _

_ “Sir, wait!”  _

_ He shouldn’t have stopped.  _

_ He did it. Expecting.  _

_ Her mere presence was bathed in something he couldn’t describe, but it both pleased and intrigued him.  _

_ Perhaps, in the end, he shouldn’t leave and not risk his thoughts and future by daring forward to push her off the bridge. She’d be gone, and so would be that feeling of eating him alive slowly. Until he met someone else. There was a great possibility it couldn’t be the same woman, however, the young male had already found himself obsessed to avoid or get rid of whoever put him in a paranoid state.  _

_ Three ladies had already been victims a week ago.  _

_ “Thank you. I’ll take your offer.”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on wattpad @drasangel on the story autumn gray for more, and quicker updates!

**Author's Note:**

> HI! This can either be one shot or turn into a mini fic ( I got plans for it, ah! ) so please, don’t hesitate to let me know if you’ve enjoyed it, for this is my first time posting my work. It’d mean a lot. 
> 
> Here are some of my socials,  
> so you can request. 
> 
> @drasangel (instagram)  
> drastein and drasangel (tumblr)


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